Chapter 18: Air and Water (The End)
"You don't think they'll take it badly?"
Charles looked up at his old friend… and smiled. "I think they'll learn to live with it. I've spoken to them already. They're satisfied that my assessment of your…"
Erik smiled back. A rare sight, one Charles had not seen since… well, since they were much younger, by comparison. It was genuine. It was exactly as he remembered, from those days long past. "Mental state," he finished, obligingly. "I understand. Apparently, my past actions warrant that and more. I can hardly protest."
Charles sipped at his cup of tea before nodding slowly. Carefully. He'd given the decision more thought than anyone could've imagined. But for so many reasons, it was the best of all available options. There was nothing that could return Erik Magnus Lensherr to his former state of, frankly, megalomania. Mastermind was dead, along with most of Essex's recruits, most likely.
And even if Mastermind hadn't been dead… Charles would certainly not have suggested such a thing to Erik. Sometimes ethics had to be elastic, for the good of mankind. Human and mutant alike.
He'd made so many decisions based on that theory… most of which had come out as expected. And some of which had not, and he'd regret them as long as he lived. But the good far outweighed the bad.
"We need your help," Charles said, frankly. "The mutant population grows exponentially—leadership and example should be united. We cannot fail."
Slowly, Erik shook his head. "No. We cannot."
He sounded far away. Charles was silent for a moment, out of respect. The garden could be seen from the window Erik was standing before. The garden where Magda's memorial would be held tomorrow. Charles remembered her, a stunning young girl who'd run off with Erik's heart. They'd been so young. Right and wrong had been so clear. Love had been a possibility.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. But it was decided.
In a way, Charles had won. But somehow, it didn't feel like the decisive victory he'd always imagined.
"We have no word about Pyro," Dr. McCoy continued, addressing the assembled staff of Xavier's as they neared the end of a long overdue recap meeting. "His leg is almost fully recovered, as you might've noted with him out and about of late, but he's not informed us of where he'll be after he's released completely from my care."
God, I hope it's not here.
Jean smiled and managed not to laugh, shooting Scott a look to match the mental waves of amusement she was sending his way. It made staff meetings so much more interesting, tapping into each other this way.
"As for Mr. Alvers, he's recovering nicely from his surgery, and I can release him tomorrow evening if all goes as expected. I don't suppose we might prevail upon him to stay in residence? Along with the rest of the Brotherhood."
A wave of mock-panic issued from Scott, and Jean had to bite her lip. Laughing about that with Magneto in the room was probably really damn inadvisable. Scott seemed to echo the sentiment… though he was still uncomfortable with the concept of the former supervillain staying at the Institute to teach the New Mutants.
Jean, for her part… thought it was wise. Magneto's conditioning would no more come undone than Wanda's. She'd been in both their minds and she'd seen a kind of stability that was only possible under completely man-made and reinforced circumstances. She could recognize the signs. Contrived stability, at least of this variety, was far more dependable than the average human mind could offer.
But she didn't expect Scott and the others to accept it so readily. And really… it was comforting, having them watching like hawks. Just in case.
Magneto looked up at the mention of the Brotherhood, but Charles shook his head. "Pietro and Wanda have both been approached on the subject, and flatly refused any invitation. The others will follow their lead."
Jean watched Erik carefully and saw him look down and away. Not in sadness… just preoccupation. He wanted them to stay. He wanted his family back.
He should've thought of that before he used them up and threw them away.
Jean returned Scott's thought with a sort of grim agreement. While she was willing to give the man a chance… she actually respected the Maximoffs' refusal of him.
As much as she could ever respect Pietro Maximoff, anyhow.
"Well then," Hank continued, as if considering the matter closed but not entirely pleased with the results, "I can report that we have recovered one of the neck bands Essex used to inhibit the expression of mutant abilities—reverse engineering should be possible, but will prove laborious. I've enlisted Forge's help, and Angel is certain he can locate some helpful information in Worthington Industries' records."
"What about the serum they put in the darts?" Scott asked, chewing at the inside of his lip, mind whirring at a thousand mph—not uncommon when he was considering anything remotely tactical in nature.
"We have none," Hank admitted ruefully. "Though someone might've survived the destruction at the Wundagore laboratory… we cannot make predictions at this juncture. It may or may not resurface."
Scott made a low disapproving sound in his chest. Great.
Jean could not have agreed more, and let him know with a wave of agreement mixed with some kind of comfort. As much as she could give, under the circumstances.
"Who could possibly have survived?" she asked. From what she'd heard, the destruction had been fairly complete. Storm and Magneto had been thought dead for a moment, even.
"Scalphunter is the only one any of us saw die," Storm pointed out.
The witness to that event, Jean considered, was conspicuously absent. Logan had taken off on his bike almost the moment they'd returned from Transia. Typical. God forbid he should be around for the emotional fallout. It'd send his senses into hyperdrive… and possibly make him want to destroy things.
"We never did see Harpoon, but he was probably convalescing somewhere hidden away after how we messed him up," Scott pointed out. "Vertigo was there, but knocked out… Riptide just kind of… got left there. It's unlikely, but possible that one of them made it out."
"We gave Blockbuster to SHIELD," Jean continued for him.
"Sinister is our real concern," Magneto spoke up for the first time in the course of the entire meeting. "His powers are an unknown, and we know he is uncannily durable."
"But apparently my eye rockets do the trick, so he might not have made it out either," Scott said, consideringly. There was a touch of embarrassment… or perhaps just regret in there, mentally speaking. He'd been knocked out at the time, after all, and Rogue had been the one to take the shot.
Jean sent a sort of comfort through the link again. Scott acknowledged it absently, mind spinning too quickly to follow.
"We can do nothing but be vigilant," Xavier pointed out. "In the mean time, our ranks have grown," he looked to Erik with a smile.
Erik returned the expression, but somewhat distractedly. Understandably so, Jean thought. Scott reacted a little sharply to that, mentally. He felt that the man deserved next to no sympathy.
Jean only smiled. That was why they made a good team, in so many ways.
And a bad team in others. She shared that sentiment with Scott unthinkingly, and it calmed him. He even smiled, understanding.
"Gambit will stay, Colossus is on his way from Russia even now, and we have Wolfsbane and Jubilee back as of this evening," Xavier continued. "We are ready to start another year, in short."
Storm nodded solemnly. Scott followed her lead. Hank seemed to acquiesce silently, as did Erik.
Jean, for her part, was hopeful. Xavier… he'd made some bad choices, that much was evident now. He'd been wrong about Pietro, but was it so unthinkable? He'd been wrong about… a lot of things. But he knew he needed help… and he was enlisting it.
It was enough to make her hope, anyhow. Not that it had ever been difficult… but she'd been through what felt like a dark tunnel and now she was standing in the light at the other end. And Jean couldn't help but feel that the X-Men, and their leader, were in pretty much the exact same position.
They were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pietro didn't need to turn his head and actually look to see Jean-Paul next to him. It was the middle of the day, the day before his mother's funeral. The third day since they'd been back. The first day since Pietro and Wanda both had completely recovered. Now they were only waiting till Lance was released. To go home.
It had been hell. Looking back, it seemed like a grey fog shrouded most of Pietro's memories. Since the nightmares, things were just… fuzzy. Strange and impossible and they had to be lies.
After what had happened to Wanda and Magento's brains… Jesus. How could any of them think what they knew was the truth?
And why the fuck was he the one stuck with the goddamn truth, anyhow? Why couldn't they have let his brain get wiped of his shitty childhood with his asshole father before they'd killed that Mastermind dick? Was that too much to ask, not to be the bearer of bad memories for the Maximoff-Lensherr clan?
Of course it fucking was. Because his life sucked.
Mostly. Then again… some things were okay. More okay now than… ever.
Some things.
" Have you spoken with Magneto?"
It was the first thing Jean-Paul had said since they'd hit the bed. It was almost eerie, just laying here. Pietro had the instinctive feeling he should be a little more… oh, say active while he was here. But… then again… not so much. Not right now.
There was something weird and new going on here. Something like… connecting them. Some kind of fine thread. Pietro harbored some odd feeling in his stomach, unarticulated and raw, that if he made any stupid moves, it'd snap. And be gone forever.
And he didn't want it to be gone.
He took a deep breath and answered, with barely a beat missed. "Na. Don't wanna. He's staying here, you know. To teach."
Which was a fucking laugh and a half. Mr. I Hate The X-Men and Their Stupid Message was joining the ranks. Figured. Fucking Xavier had seen his opening to unite mutantkind under his lousy banner, and he'd jumped. Magneto was too mindfucked to figure it out… and it served him right.
"So I hear," Jean-Paul snorted, like he thought the whole thing was as ridiculous as Pietro did. "I'm surprised he doesn't want you to stay."
Pietro sighed. Storm had brought it up to him. That they should all stay.
Too fucking late, assholes. The Brotherhood of Mutants was well past the point of rescue. Better late than never, huh fuckers?
"Don't care if he does," he said, not really having the heart to spew all the vitriol in his brain at the moment. Part of that thread thing… it might snap the thread. And anyhow, it hadn't seemed worth it lately. He just didn't have the same kind of need to spew random bullshit this week. He was… tired. "To me, that's just one more reason to give this place some serious distance."
Jean-Paul turned his head to look at him. Pietro could see it out of the corner of his eye.
He'd kind of forgotten exactly what JP looked like while he was gone. He'd somehow become this almost faceless pretty thing. That made him ache.
He'd forgotten how bright those eyes were. It was almost creepy… but not. Did something to his insides anyhow… kinda like a creepy feeling, but a little lower in his belly.
"It might not be so bad if you stayed, Pietro. Xavier is an idiot, but at least he knows when he's fucked it."
Pietro snorted, still looking at the ceiling. He wanted to look back at Jean-Paul… but he couldn't yet. Felt funny. "I'd rather die a thousand deaths," he said, instead.
JP was quiet for a minute. Pietro's mind was racing, so he didn't mind so much. He was remembering being dragged out of a crevasse in Mount Wundagore, held up and petted and rescued. Felt like that memory should embarrass him.
It didn't.
Jean-Paul finally spoke, quietly. "Are you planning on giving this place more distance than usual, then?"
"No!" Pietro exclaimed, looking over at JP before he could stop himself. When he did, the shock of meeting Jean-Paul's eyes… this close up… it was a little like cold water being thrown all over him. They hadn't been this close since Transia. "I mean…," he fumbled after a minute, looking back up at the ceiling to avoid his friend's piercing stare. "Of course not. The old house is good enough for me."
Not that there was anything there. But… he didn't want to leave. Not now.
"Good," Jean-Paul said simply. "It doesn't work out well for me when you leave, apparently."
Pietro looked back over quickly, but now JP was staring at the ceiling. Had he just… like… admitted to that? His mouth worked, but nothing came out. Quite simply… he had no reply.
Well there was a first.
After what felt like forever, he managed, "Well, I know it almost killed me," and a slight snort of a laugh. Yeah… that could mean… anything. He wasn't saying anything stupid or weak… or admitting to anything. Not that there was anything to admit to but… ah fuck it.
"What about JM," Pietro decided to change the subject. "I haven't even seen her since we got back."
Jean-Paul was quiet again for a moment before saying, "…We're not really…"
Pietro sighed, suddenly feeling miles and miles more comfortable with the situation now that it wasn't focused on… that. "You're fighting again?" he shot JP an exasperated look. Jesus, those Beaubiers needed to pull their shit together. Look at him and Wanda! A model of the happy brother and sister.
Well… sort of. Still, compared to the Beaubiers…
"Not exactly," Jean-Paul was fiddling with the buttons on his own shirt now. Like he was uncomfortable. And he'd closed his eyes.
Why did Pietro suddenly have a bad feeling about this subject too?
"While you were gone, she had an accident. She and Jean were attacked, effectively, by a mob at NYS."
Pietro raised his eyebrows. There was only one thing to say to that. "… shit."
"You know better than anyone how she gets under pressure."
"Do I ever," he agreed readily. Memories of being locked in a cage with one certifiable nutbar called Jeanne-Marie Beaubier flooded back to him… and once more he wished for a mindwipe. Or maybe just some fucking bleach to pour in there.
"She wouldn't leave her room for days," JP continued with the story, eyes open but staring straight upward. "Finally she found out about some kind of gene therapy that would mask her X-Factor from scanning—"
Pietro sat up straight, "They have scans for that now?" Jesus Christ! Fucking Nazis!
"Yes," came the sighing reply. Pietro didn't much care for what the topic was doing to Jean-Paul… who he had just now decided should be taking his clothes off instead of talking. Talking was too hard. Taking clothes off was easier. "Thanks to Sinister and Worthington Industries. I'd like to blame Wings for that, but even I can't fault him for what his parents have done."
" Jesus…," Pietro sighed, leaning back against the headboard. He was sure this would have some kind of fucked up far-reaching implications… but mostly, it just sucked. Not that he cared if everyone knew he was a mutant—they should know he was great. If they didn't, he'd tell them himself. Repeatedly, if needed.
But still… Nazis!
"Anyhow, the procedure…," Jean-Paul was still talking and it put Pietro back on the path their conversation had been going down. Jeanne-Marie, nucking futs, right. "It wasn't supposed to change her powers. But now when we touch…"
JP closed his eyes. His face was totally expressionless. He wasn't moving.
It freaked Pietro right out. "What, dude? Come on…"
"It just goes black," Jean-Paul said, quietly. "Everything goes black and… we were out for almost half an hour."
Pietro felt his eyebrows climbing dangerously high. Oh man… "So… you can't touch her at all?"
Jean-Paul took a deep breath, and covered it by sitting up straight and sprawling his legs out in front of him. He shook his head once he got mostly situated, "And she seems to have found some kind of permanent Aurora state to help her alleviate her guilt. So Xavier says. So she's… not exactly… my sister."
"Wow," was about all Pietro could manage. He wasn't usually one for sympathy or whatever… but goddamn. That hit a little too close to home. Not that he was like, thinking about it or anything. But man… he kinda knew the feeling. What with Wanda and the… yeah. Yeah, he knew.
And thank fuck he had her back.
But man... all he could really add to his assessment was, "That… blows."
Jean-Paul smiled. And it was pretty fucking unpleasant. Pietro looked him up and down. He'd lost weight, for one. He was normally nice and filled out, but his shoulders were looking bony and his cheekbones were even more obvious than before. And there were dark circles under those (incredible) eyes. Come to think of it… Jean-Paul looked kinda like shit. For Jean-Paul.
"That's one way to put it," was all he said. There was something extra bitter in the tone of his voice that felt a little like a smack in the face to Pietro. It made him sit up a little straighter, look at JP even closer…
What he saw was pretty fucking disturbing. Holy shit… first he'd gone and run off to Transia and left JP as the bearer of his news to the world… then JM had pulled this stupid ass genetic stunt…
Pietro swallowed hard, wondering what the fuck this uncomfortable feeling in his throat was. "… Bad couple of weeks, huh?" he managed. But it sounded choked and funny even in his own ears. His face was kinda hot… he didn't like this feeling.
"It's over now."
Jean-Paul wasn't looking at him. Pietro was kind of glad. He wasn't sure he'd be able to think straight otherwise.
He owed this guy his life. Pietro wasn't much for gratitude or anything… but some serious shit had just gone down. And he never would've managed without… well…
Goddammit.
"Look…" he said, suddenly. Well, more like croaked around the lump in his throat. "Thanks for not saying anything before you did. I meant to tell you that before, I just never got the chance, I guess. And thanks for coming for us. I'd… well I'd be dead if you hadn't."
Jean-Paul turned his head and met Pietro's eyes.
Pietro swallowed hard again, caught. He couldn't look away and it was making him feel panicky. Vibratey. God… Jean-Paul… looked so sad… and it was… it kinda hurt his throat… man his stomach didn't feel so good…
"Shut the fuck up, Pietro."
Suddenly, they both smiled.
Pietro shrugged, trying to breathe normally. Finding it less difficult than he had only a split second before. Mostly because Jean-Paul looked away from him… let him go. "Just sayin'—"
"If you want something to do with your mouth," JP raised an eyebrow at him, "I have a few far more productive suggestions."
And that was the other shoe. Pietro grinned… and attacked.
Talking was for losers and jerks.
Alex kicked his feet a little, wiggled his toes in the breeze. He was hanging out on the balcony, watching the sun going down. And thinking. Alone.
This was some heavy shit. Some seriously effing heavy shit. That was pretty much all he'd come up with in the last half hour sitting here… but he'd made some decisions too. Decisions that like… needed to be made. And he felt pretty good about the whole thing now. Sorta.
Other than not being too comfortable with the idea of Magneto as his new teacher. But hey, bygones and stuff, right? That whole Asteroid M Thing… yeah. Sure. He could get over that. No worries.
"Hey bro."
Alex jumped a little and looked up, even though he recognized the voice instantly. He smiled up at Scott through his bangs once he'd recovered from the surprise of finding someone out here with him. "Hey man. How you feeling after all that?"
"Okay," Scott planted himself next to Alex and stuck his own legs through the openings between the railing and over the edge. "We won."
Thank fuck, Alex thought to himself. Man… he'd never been so worried. And he'd never wanted to be an X-Man so badly before. Just so he could… be there. "And Magneto, man," he decided to bring it up, since it was eating at his brain anyhow. He just kinda needed to hear Scott say it was cool. If he heard that… it'd be cool.
"Yeah, crazy…," Scott gave a little laugh. Not real genuine, but it was a start. "I mean, just thinking about that whole Asteroid M thing…"
Alex winced. "Not even the same guy, huh?"
Scott shook his head, "I could hardly believe it myself, man. But… not even close
Alex nodded. That was all he needed to hear. They were quiet for just a minute—Alex just kinda concentrated on looking at the sun going down over the tops of the trees and the sounds of nearby voices. Some of the others were hanging out in the yard below. It was hella quiet lately, since everyone had come back. Lots of wounded… and then there was the funeral tomorrow. No one really felt much like having a party or anything.
But it kinda suited Alex. Being all… pensive and stuff. And really… hell, he kinda wanted to talk to Scott about that anyhow." So, I've been thinking a lot," he said finally, "And I think it's really lucky I came here."
"Well I agree," Scott said, looking out toward the sunset. "But why do you say that now?"
"This powers stuff…," Alex kicked his legs a little, wiggling his toes some more. It was pretty damn cold, but he still didn't feel like wearing shoes outside. Seemed stupid, somehow. "I mean the thing about Sinister actually being after me. It totally woke me up, you know? What if I were still chillin' on the beach at Diamond Head, eating a plate lunch or something? It'd be so easy for me to get caught and… like… used."
… Like he had been by Magneto. But if people knew he was like… that powerful. Man. It could've been even worse.
Heavy shit man. Heavy.
"Alex, that's exactly why I was so freaked out," Scott was looking at him, all serious behind those red shades. "Because even here it could happen. I'm not trying to scare you, I just… I just want you to be aware how much you'd be worth to these people."
And Alex felt just as serious as Scott looked. For once. "Well I'm aware now, man. Too fucking aware. And… I mean…." He looked down at the far off ground now, past his bare feet. "X said I really am that powerful. He didn't tell me before cause he thought it'd freak me out I guess."
He caught Scott's grimace out of the corner of his eye. "He's good at withholding info sometimes."
Alex shook his head, "He meant well, dude, I know that," then he sighed. "I wish I didn't know now, cause it's like this weight on my shoulders, you know? Like all this destructiveness inside me, and if I don't use it right…" he trailed off and shook his head some more. There was like… nothing to say to that. It was just way too much for him. He was just some kid who missed the surf… not human WMD.
Only… he was.
"Alex… I know exactly how you feel."
Alex turned to look at his brother. And smiled. "Heh. I guess you do. Like no one else ever will."
"At least we're not alone, huh?"
His smile grew bigger. "No one wants that, man. No one."
Scott reached out and gave his shoulder a manly kind of squeeze. Alex leaned his head on the railings, looking through it at the kids he could see below. Kinda further off, but still recognizable. Kitty and Kurt and Rogue, just hanging out on one of the benches.
Which reminded him. "So what about Rogue? Any news there?"
Scott sighed and echoed his position, kinda like he didn't even realize he was doing it. "I don't know, Alex. I don't know what's going on with anything right now. I kinda feel like… like I don't have control of things anymore. I'm a little… lost."
Alex gave a low whistle. Those were totally words he did not expect to hear from his big bro. Dude always had answers. "Dude…," he said, "that's heavy."
Scott sighed. "Yeah. I…"
Alex held up one hand, leaning away from the railing now. "I know, dude. It's cool." He didn't need an explanation. Scott didn't have to be perfect… well, he was perfect. But he didn't need to be someone else's idea of perfect. Not around him, man. Not with his bro.
" What about Ray?" It was Scott's turn to change the subject now. "He still being weird?"
Alex shook his head, leaning back on his hands. The stone was cold under his palms.
He didn't mind the cold. It was … kinda nice. Different. "Eh, things have been so wacky lately, bro. But now that things are chill again, I dunno… I feel a lot braver these days."
Not that he would be telling dude that he wanted on him any time soon. Just that… well the funkiness of Ray hadn't quite disappeared, even with all these issues lately. He totally needed to investigate.
"Deciding to take charge will do that to you."
Alex laughed. "I guess so man."
And … that's totally what he'd done. All this power… it meant he had some work to do. That was his like… duty. To the world.
Heavy… but not uncool. Not really.
Scott padded down the hallway, holding back a sigh. Alex seemed okay… really okay. Which was good… even if everything else still seemed up in the air.
Scott didn't like up in the air. He didn't like uncertainty and he didn't like having to wait to see where the other shoe would drop. He liked facts, statistics and reality. Not emotion, confusion and possibility. He wanted…
He wanted things to be the way they were.
Realizing where he was in the house, he stopped. The girl's hall was right there, which mean Jean and JM's room was right there.
Maybe that would help. On impulse, he changed course and stood in front of her door. It was open, but he knocked anyhow, catching a glimpse of her at her computer. The blue glow of it reflected onto her face, making her look almost supernatural. Beautiful and pale.
He smiled.
She turned her head to him and reached out to flick on a nearby lamp as she did so.
"Hey Jeannie," he said, quietly.
"Hey you," she gestured for him to come in, crooking a finger at him then patting her bed, which was only a foot from her chair or so. "What's up?"
Scott did as he was told and strolled into the room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his khakis. He sat himself on the bed and extracting his hands, leaned back on them. "Just talking to the kid brother," he said, this time letting out a little sigh. "He's really taking this whole thing with his powers pretty seriously. I'm kinda surprised… but I shouldn't be. He's a smart kid, no matter what kind of slang he talks."
At that he gave a little smile, and looked up to catch Jean's eyes. She was smiling back at him.
"He is," she agreed, tucking a lock of shining red hair behind her ear. "And I think if I could pick one person to trust with that kind of power… it'd be Alex."
Scott had to admit, that was valid. "Good point," he agreed. "Just…" Just that it didn't make it okay. It didn't make him any less afraid that he'd lose his kid brother again. Lose him to his power, or to crazy people who wanted to use it… or to… anything.
God, he hated possibilities.
"I know," Jean reached out and squeezed his knee gently, then sat back in her chair again, swiveling it around to face him properly. "He's your kid brother. I'd feel the same. How about you?"
Scott shrugged, "Okay. I just…" He just didn't feel like anything was right. And it wasn't just Alex, even if that was always first. It was also pretty much all his friends. Thank god Jean had come around before now… he realized with a little bit of surprise that he really needed her right then. And if she'd still been… well, whatever the hell she'd been acting like a week ago… damn. "I'm still a little worried about Jean-Paul too," was all he was willing to admit to. And really, it was the biggest one, after Alex.
The guy was not okay. He was acting like it, but Scott knew better by this time. And it was pretty freaking hard to forget Jean-Paul Beaubier crying into his shoulder and holding on to him like a life preserver only a few days ago, honestly. That kind of breakdown…
Yeah. The guy was so not okay.
Jean was quiet for a moment, biting at her lip. Scott knew it was hard for her too—even if she didn't like JP, JM was her friend. And though he was pretty sure she was over her feelings of personal responsibility for JM's latest breakdown… this was Jean. She was too thoughtful to forget. "I don't blame you," she said after a moment. "Jeanne-Marie is…"
"Not Jeanne-Marie," he finished for her, nodding slightly. That was about all there was to it. Aurora was here to stay, apparently.
Jean echoed his thought, as she so often did even when they didn't link up. She was freaky like that. "I don't think she's going back any time soon. I know the Professor said it too, but I've felt her mind since she made the switch, Scott. And she did it right there in a session with Xavier…"
He nodded once more, this time more slowly. He'd heard as much—and if she actually had a major change while sitting there with the Professor… well there wasn't much anyone could do to refute his account of the subject. He'd been there, he'd seen it, he'd felt it. JM was gone.
But it wasn't even that that worried Scott. It was more the attitude it seemed to create in her. "She won't even consider trying to change it back. He feels betrayed, but he won't come out and say it."
Of course, JP wouldn't say that. But come on.
Jean bit at her lip again. Scott noticed how pretty it made her look… but it was different now. That thought, that she was so very, very pretty, drove it home.
Jean was his best friend. He'd always love her.
But they'd mistaken it for something it wasn't, and it could've cost them this.
"Scott…," she started off slowly, oblivious to his internal ramblings (as much as a telepath could be, he figured.) "I know he's your friend. But he's a big boy."
This time, it was a big old sigh that slipped out of him. He leaned back further, shoulders slouching, head hanging just a little. And he said what he'd been thinking for about two weeks now. "Everything is out of my hands these days."
" Hey," Jean stood up and relocated herself to the bed, right beside him. "That's not true."
She leaned close and squeezed his leg again, then put her head against his, giving it a little knock.
He could smell her hair. Sweet and familiar, like white flowers.
It made him give up. "Ah, the hell with it," he sighed, sitting up a little straighter. She did the same and scooted away, tucking her legs up underneath her in lotus position "Let's talk about something else, huh?" he suggested. He was tired of being a whiney bitch. What could he say. "You heading back to school?" he asked, looking around and noticing that her gigantic "purse" (it was a messenger bag, but she called it a purse) was all packed up and laying by the door.
Jean nodded, "Just for tonight, I'll be back for the funeral. I have some things to take care of there."
Scott noticed the look in her eye—the one that said she was up to something. "Getting involved?" he guessed.
Jean smiled, refocusing on him. "You could say that. A friend of mine asked me to help with a club he started. A mutant-human cooperation organization. I think it's a great opportunity for us to speak out but not separate ourselves."
Scott just kept smiling back at her. Man… if there was somewhere Jean belonged, it was doing that. And as far as he was concerned, there wasn't more important work in the entire world. He did what he could—he couldn't do that kind of PR stuff. But Jean… she had the face and the brain for it. "You were made for that kind of thing, Jeannie."
She practically beamed. "I hope so. Think you'd be interested in helping us out sometime? We want to plan some events soon, to get the ball rolling."
Momentarily, he froze. But he shook it off and said, "Er, yeah, okay. If you think I could be useful…"
"Well if you don't want to…" Jean arched an eyebrow at him, smirking. She knew exactly what his problem was. He could just feel it—she knew damn well that the idea of PR of any kind made him nervous and… well, frankly, sweaty.
"Hey, I said yeah!" he laughed, nervousness deflated. "Of course I will, Jean, you know that. This is your thing, I'm behind it one-hundred percent."
She leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly, "I know you are. Thanks Scott."
He smiled as she stood up to go, and took her hand to keep her from getting away. Seized by yet another stupid impulse. "Hey. I love you, okay?" He told her, looking up into her eyes pointedly. "Don't forget it."
Her smile went soft, and her voice lowered as she said, "I know. I love you too."
He stood up and started for the door. Feeling… well, a little better. "See you tomorrow night."
"See you."
Wanda stood silently as Xavier talked. Standing in the rose garden, appropriately barren, her brother beside her.
Her father behind her.
The whole ceremony struck her as vaguely disturbing. People talking about Magda like she wasn't some kind of batshit harpy. A harpy who'd sold out her own kids for some dream she gave up the day she'd dumped them on their real parents.
Nothing about this was for Magda, though. Magda Lensherr was dead and gone, and she didn't give a fuck if they cried or laughed. This ceremony was for them. Why they cared, anyone but Magneto and apparently Xavier, Wanda couldn't really understand. Other than maybe fear. Fear that they'd die too some day. That one day it wouldn't matter what anyone said about them because they'd be dead and gone and out like a light.
But Wanda wasn't afraid. In fact, she couldn't remember ever being afraid before Wundagore. Not once in her life.
Apparently, she couldn't remember anything. And apparently, at least according to Pietro, that made her lucky.
Yeah. How would he fucking like it?
So she stood there, frozen, numb. Not on the outside—it wasn't so bad an evening. But on the inside. Like she was watching people behind a glass wall, watching feeding time at the zoo. Or maybe she was the one in the zoo.
It didn't much matter.
There was Roberto with his arm around Amara. She was crying into his shoulder, as if she had some fucking personal stake in the matter. Maybe she was one of the scared ones. Maybe funerals reminded her of someone she loved who was dead. Roberto didn't even seem to notice her, even though he was patting her absently on the shoulder.
He was watching JM, who was standing in front of Warren. Who was eyeing Remy sideways in between glancing down at his batshit girlfriend like a goddamn big-winged mother hen.
And Remy looked like he was trying to forget where he was. Edging further and further away from Pyro. Who'd stopped flicking his lighter finally, since Scott had shot him a dirty look near the beginning of the service.
Little blonde Summers looked ready to cry too, standing there beside his stupid-haired roommate.
And Wanda… didn't get any of it. Not even the smallest part of it. Not the sympathetic and frankly fucking irritating look on Jean's face. Not the way Kurt was glancing around nervously, his tail lashing like he was waiting to bolt. Not Kitty's closed eyes and the way she was hugging herself.
The closest she could come was the way Rogue was standing next to Jean-Paul, with her back almost turned to the entire thing. But even that seemed to be a way of hiding from something.
Wanda didn't want to hide. She just… didn't get it.
At least it made sense now. The way she never felt like she belonged, the way she felt cut off and didn't know if it was normal or not. The way things were so foreign. Everything she'd learned in Transia added up to one big fat explanation of why she was an emotional freak.
She didn't want to be. But she didn't think it could be helped.
Sam helped. He'd been giving her some space since she'd woken up… but the minute she'd kissed him for the first time, when she was saying thank you, she'd felt like he was helping. Somehow. He was nearby now, but not too close. Just like he had been the whole time.
He didn't help enough though. Neither did Pietro. And she wasn't sure anyone could. But she didn't want to be like this.
She didn't want to end up like her crazy fucking mother.
Maybe she'd write Marya a letter. Maybe that would help.
The memorial ended uneventfully and the crowd broke up. Everyone had been there. Even Lance, who was the only one sitting. But he'd come, just the same. When it was over, Kitty helped him stand up. And Wanda started to walk away. Sam was beside her, quiet.
She was glad.
"I'll call, JP," Pietro said somewhere behind her.
"All right," Jean-Paul answered him, sounding quiet. Pensive. Out of character. "I'll be around."
Sam stopped, took her hand. He just looked at her.
She leaned in and kissed him. His lips were cold, but still soft. She loved his lips.
It was a quick one. They pulled back, and Sam nodded, wordlessly, then turned to walk away.
Wanda watched him go silently. Jean-Paul and Pietro were murmuring something nearby, but she didn't pay enough attention to hear what it was.
"Is that your boyfriend?"
She looked up sharply… and saw Magneto standing over her. "What's it to you?" she barked at him.
He almost smiled at her. Almost. "I was only asking, Wanda. I wish you'd stay."
He hadn't brought it up with either of them, that she knew of, before. Storm had, but not him. Not that it changed anything. She'd rather die. Or better yet, she'd rather he did.
Before she could answer him, however, Pietro was at her side, Jean-Paul mysteriously gone. "Wish your heart out," he snapped, taking her hand protectively. It made her smile. "It won't do you any good."
"Thanks but no thanks," she added. She started to pull her brother toward the Jeep, where Kitty was helping Lance get into the driver's side, Freddy assisting.
To her surprise, Magneto made pace with them, still at her side. "Charles told me what happened after Apocalypse. And before. I have trouble believing—"
Pietro stopped, jerking her to a stop as he did so. "Look," he cut their father off, face screwing up into that indignant angry expression that was oh-so-common on his features. "We get that you loved our mother or whatever. You didn't seem to give a fuck till this week, but hey, great. In our minds, she died when we were little kids, and our parents are two gypsies in east buttfuck, Transia. We don't need you."
Wanda shot her brother an impressed look and squeezed his hand. If he was going to grow a pair, he couldn't have picked a better time. Then again, he'd done pretty damn well on his own back in that lab in Transia too… In fact, it was pretty goddamn obvious that something inside her brother had changed since their whole ordeal. He'd been… well moody. Which was normal, but more… almost reserved. Freakishly thoughtful, for Pietro. For any normal human being she figured it'd be average. But in self-centered Pietro (which he still was, no fucking doubt about it), it was pretty remarkable.
"All I'm asking for is a chance," Magneto replied with maddening calm. "We should be together."
"We are," Wanda said simply.
We was her and Pietro. He was not part of their we. And from what she understood, he was the reason they'd lost that for so long… even if she didn't remember.
"I see," he said quietly, after a moment of silence. They were very near the Jeep now. Wanda had to force herself not to hex him away so they could just get the fuck out of here and go home. Finally. "I'll be here if you need me," he continued.
"We won't," Pietro snapped again, without even looking at their father. "And you can keep your money too."
"I will not shirk my responsibilities—,"
"We'll manage," Wanda cut him off.
"We always do," came Lance's sullen reply from the Jeep. "You guys ready or what?"
Todd hopped up into the back of the Jeep just before Wanda.
Pietro swung into the front seat, slammed his door, and said, "Yeah. Let's go."
Aurora followed her brother once he left Pietro's side. The rest of the students and staff were heading directly for the school, but Jean-Paul veered away from them all. She caught the glance Scott shot her as he watched Jean-Paul steal away, but she shook her head.
She wanted to talk to him. It was not Scott's place.
She reached him just as he was nearing the edge of the woods. She pulled up the hem of her black peasant skirt and sped up to catch him—luckily he was not moving too quickly. She wouldn't have been able to catch him, if so. Not anymore.
Which was no matter. If only he could be sensible enough to see that.
"Brother," she began, in English.
Jean-Paul neither looked at her nor responded, his pale face as cold as the air around them.
She furrowed her brow, irritated. He hadn't spoken to her in days, not even to ask if she was doing all right. She was not pleased. She switched to Joual, "Brother, please…"
This time, he glanced over at her. His eyes were hard and colder still. But he said nothing.
She grimaced and switched back to English. She was not certain why she'd spoken French so much before—it was so silly when her English was perfectly serviceable and she was living in America now. Really. "Why will you not speak to me?"
Jean-Paul stopped walking and that cold hard expression morphed into something hot. He looked, frankly, appalled. His lips twisted up in something like a sneer, and he asked, "How can you even ask me that with a straight face, Jeanne-Marie?"
Aurora cringed inside. Possibly outside—she didn't know or care. That name… that horrible horrible mousy little bitch…
Jean-Paul's sneer did not lessen as he croaked, "Fine, Aurora, if it makes you feel better." His voice sounded tight and forced. But there was no sign of fear or pain in his eyes. Just anger. "The question remains."
She considered, discomfort washed away in an instant, though she was somewhat irritated still. She didn't expect him to be happy. But she didn't expect him to be a drama queen, either. Wasn't that Pietro's job? "Jean-Paul," she began, clearly and rationally, "we don't need to be enemies. I love you—"
He began walking again and growled (yes, growled) at her, "You love yourself."
She gasped as if he'd smacked her. She felt as if he had. "How can you—?"
He cut her off before she got any further, now sounding outright angry, gravelly voice and all. "How can you? Do you even want to find a cure for this condition—?"
She sniffed, stepping carefully over a felled treebranch in their path. "My condition is healed, brother. This is a side effect."
He was silent, shaking his head for a moment. It displaced his bangs and they fell into his eyes.
She was compelled to move them… and realized that if she did, they'd black out. It hurt for a moment. But she knew it was for the best. If only he could look past his own needs and see… see how badly she needed this.
"This is precisely what I speak of," he finally growled (again.) "You don't care a thing for what you've done to… the people around you."
She pursed her lips at him, slipping her hands into the pockets of her winter coat. Lest she try to choke him with them and knock them both out. "Warren isn't angry with me," she protested. "He says he's not been affected—"
Again, Jean-Paul stopped walking. He turned to face her, cheeks turning just slightly pink. "Warren can still touch you."
Aurora paused again, completely shocked at the emphatic nature of this declaration. So… Jean-Paul had not been concerned with "the people around her." But with himself.
And for that moment, Aurora had absolutely no reply.
Jean-Paul shook his head, as if angry with himself, now. "And Warren is not your blood," he continued, catching her eyes again. "Warren was not… so close to you. And no one ever will be again. You know it as well as I know it."
She bit at her lip. He was right, but she still didn't like what he had to say.. And he was blind, anyhow. He was being foolish about this because of all he'd been through with Pietro, and that was that. Yes, she'd tell him so, in fact. "You're upset because of—"
Jean-Paul cut her off immediately, his words dripping in bitterness. "If you even drag Pietro into this, I will leave right now. God help me, Aurora, I will walk away from you and I will not look back."
She stopped. She believed him… and he was starting to scare her just a little. It made her stand up straighter, as if she were ready for a fight… but the root of it was fear. His eyes were wild now, blue and raging bright. His cheeks were flushed and his hair had gone all wrong. He looked… slightly insane, really.
She said nothing, but let him continue.
"If you want to argue about this, fine. I want to argue about it, god knows. I want to do something about it, and this is all I can do. But this is about you and me. Not Pietro, not Warren, not Xavier or Jean or Scott or anyone else in the world."
After another moment of silence where she cast around hopelessly for a defense—too flustered by his approach to even think properly, she finally said "… But you must admit, it upset you." Meaning Pietro, of course.
He shook his head, all the anger suddenly gone out of him, and spoke quietly. "Not so much as you, my love."
She took a step closer. But knew she couldn't touch him. It was for the best. "You will see reason in time," she promised.
He shook his head and took a step backward. Which hurt more than anything he could've said. "No," he replied, "your vision is skewed and you know it. I want to help you, I promised I would. But your mind is fractured and you know there's no way out for you right now. I accept that, and I love you for it, it's who you are. But you are the one who does not see clearly."
Now she was indignant. "My mind is perfectly stable right now! Jean and Xavier both agreed—I'm further from danger than I have been since I arrived here!" And it was true. She was better. She was happier.
"Because this you is the you that won," he insisted, shaking his head once more. "It doesn't mean the fracture isn't there, Jeanne-Marie."
She slapped her hands over her ears at the sound of that name, losing her calm to him. Losing her reason. "Stop calling me that!"
Jean-Paul only looked at her for a moment. Then sighed. His shoulders slumped even more, and he said, "Forget it," as she took her hands from her ears.
He started walking again and she hopped to follow quickly. "You cannot blame this on the fact that I'm…," she looked around for an appropriate word, but could find none. She was desperate, feeling him slip away. So she said, "crazy."
"I don't," he didn't even look at her as he responded. Just kept walking. "I blame your lack of reason on that. I blame the situation itself on the fact that you simply do not care."
Aurora sniffed, trying to regain the calm she'd initially had. But she was shaken, and she knew it. And she was scared. Which made her want to hurt something. "Then you don't know me."
"I did once. And that was my opinion back then, as well."
She shot him a glare, "Jean-Paul…," but she trailed off. He didn't look back at her. He didn't stop walking. He didn't look like he felt… anything. From zero to one hundred and back again just like that. Had she truly lost all power over her brother because she wanted to be happy? "Let's not be enemies," she tried, finally.
" I'll do whatever you want, sister," he said quietly, surprisingly docile. "But don't expect me to be happy about this."
She shook her head, "Do you think it makes me happy?"
It did not, not to be able to touch him. But her sanity… being rid of that insane little bitch was worth it. It had to be worth it. It was the only way.
"I think you only care when it's convenient."
She stopped walking, feeling sick to her stomach suddenly. "You hurt me."
He kept walking. "We're not even close to even."
And he didn't stop as she stood there, watching his back become smaller and smaller till it disappeared into the trees.
Jean-Paul leaned out over the balcony, enjoying the cold rush of air through his lungs. He'd been walking for hours now, through the woods as usual. And it hadn't fixed him.
Things could've been worse, but he didn't really give a fuck. Jeanne-Marie was gone, and he'd have to accept it. But damned if he wasn't going to have a good sulk over it before he did his getting over. He fucking deserved it, and that was all there was to it.
The problem was his memory. He couldn't stop thinking about her, about everything. About smoking with her on the front porch after clubbing, after everyone else had gone to bed and it was just the two of them. How beautiful she'd been to him that night, and every night before and after—human starlight. How she had contrived, despite her dislike of Pietro, to reconcile the two of them on their birthday this summer. How she'd enlisted Wanda and the two of them had ganged up on their brothers, in true sisterly fashion, for the good of all.
About seeing her for the first time, hugging her in Xavier's office. That blinding flash of light that had told him he was complete—after years of wandering he was whole at last.
Of course… he was lucky to have her at all. Lucky she was alive, after what Sinister had done to her and Pietro, after that mob had attacked at NYS.
Somehow though, he didn't feel lucky. He just felt lost.
"Hey Speedy."
Jean-Paul looked up quickly, shocked at the presence of another human being. He should've known from the gruff voice that it was Mr. Logan—but he'd thought the man had disappeared into the mist (as he was wont to do) once they'd returned from Transia.
"Look like you could use a beer," Logan continued, approaching and planting himself next to Jean-Paul, leaning on the banister."
Jean-Paul watched with vague interest as Logan bent, opened the cooler, and pulled out two Labatt Blues. He handed one to Jean-Paul, who accepted silently at first, then pulled off the cap on his own.
Jean-Paul followed suit, and noted his own lack of irritation. Had it been anyone else, in any other fashion, he would have told them to fuck off. But for some reason… Logan was not so offensive. Which were words he never thought he'd string together in a coherent sentence…
But the man had a regard for privacy… and good sense. Those were two qualities Jean-Paul could appreciate at the moment. That, and beer.
And Logan's apparent disregard for certain American laws requiring that one be twenty-one to legally consume it.
"Thanks," Jean-Paul finally said after his first drink. The stuff was good—crisp like a decent Canadian beer should be. Not this American swill. After another moment and a few more silent drinks from both of them, he asked, "Where did you disappear to?"
Not that he felt the need to make conversation. But he was tired of his own thoughts. They only went in circles anyhow, and none of them were pleasant.
Mr. Logan grunted. "I don't like funerals."
Jean-Paul raised his eyebrows, looking out over the tops of the trees at the darkening night sky. "Is there someone who does?"
After another swallow, Logan replied, "Dunno, Stripes is pretty goth. Ain't you and her close?"
Jean-Paul took another drink as well, already over halfway through his bottle. Really, why hadn't he thought of this before? A drink might've made him feel better ages ago. "Rogue has never mentioned a love for funerals. At least not to me."
"Learn somethin' every day," Logan grunted.
There was a long, startlingly comfortable silence. In fact, it was the most comfortable Jean-Paul had been, he realized, in roughly a week. Though there had been those few blessed moments with Pietro (once he'd finally managed to shut the motormouth up), they had not lasted long enough for him. And he'd been a little too preoccupied to enjoy them properly, truth be told.
He was stirred from his thoughts my Logan moving again. The man had left his empty bottle on the railing and ducked down to dig through his cooler. He reappeared upright with two more in hand. "Need another?"
Jean-Paul accepted. "Merci."
Just as they were removing their caps, another voice cut through the silence. "Hey guys, can I interrupt?"
Jean-Paul looked over his shoulder… and once again, was not upset to see the new visitor.
Scott. He started coming toward them when Jean-Paul nodded at him.
Logan simply held out the beer he'd just opened and said, "Only if yer drinkin'."
Scott appeared on the other side of Jean-Paul, looking slightly confused and only mostly scared. He stared at the beer bottle as if it were some sort of alien artifact that might turn him into a frog if he touched it. "I… uh…"
Jean-Paul took the bottle and shoved it in front of Scott's face as Logan dove for another in his cooler. "Just do what you're told for once, Summers."
Oh, the irony.
Face full of stoic boy scout like trepidation, Scott accepted the bottle. Still staring at it as if he were afraid of this mystical creation and it's strange powers. "… sure. Okay, I guess. I uh… never had one of these before."
Jean-Paul rolled his eyes.
Logan got the cap off his new bottle and gave a short bark of a laugh, "Sometimes, Shades, I really think you should've gone off to college with Jeannie. Just so you could get drunk and get laid."
Jean-Paul shook his head, "Nonsense. We can arrange all that right here."
Scott made a face, "Don't do me any favors, guys." He took a tenuous sip, then pronounced, "This… isn't bad."
"That's the spirit," Logan informed him.
They lapsed into silence, sipping at their beers. Or chugging, in Logan's case. And Jean-Paul found that he… felt a little better. Remarkable and unexpected, but perhaps a little company was just the thing… in very limited cases. And providing that the company was carefully selected. He thought he'd heard Bobby's voice echoing through the corridor behind him less than an hour ago, and it had almost sent him into a blind panic. Drake on an empty (and surly) stomach was hardly a good idea.
He stood watching night grow, between Logan and Scott, and trying not to think. The third beer helped. It helped even more when Scott finished his first and actually accepted a second.
And Jean-Paul eventually thought that his life would go on. And everything wasn't lost.
And even if it was because of the beer… he was glad for the revelation just the same.
The End
AN: Thanks a lot to everyone who stuck around for the ending! Yes, this is truly the end—when I started out three stories ago, this was the place I was aiming for. All is balanced in the world and as it should be. Sure, there are some open ended things… okay a lot of open ended things. But the story I wanted to tell the most is complete.
Thanks a million go to Sue Penkivech, who has beta'd for me for nearly three years now. THREE YEARS. If I've gotten better (and god I hope I have) over that time, it's thanks to her. And that's a fact, not me being sappy. I'm bad at sap (though this chapter might've tried to convince you otherwise… sorta.)
Will it ever be continued? Not right now, no. Eventually? I'd be an idiot to say it won't, seeing as I have a whole other sequel planned (and have for a year at least now… but that's another story). For now, I'm going to concentrate on finishing up a few more issues of Fallen Angels with Sue, and doing the Warren and Jean fic called Wonderwall with Jen1703. You can find links to that stuff on my front page. I'm also running an Evo/Excalibur AU RPG called Muir Island currently—so if anyone wants to come and play with us, we'd absolutely love it.
Again, thanks for reading you guys. I hope you've been entertained—that's definitely what I'm here for.